Lily Potter and the Lie of the Solemn
by typicalgryffinclaw
Summary: (Next-Gen fanfic) May have spoilers! Lily Luna Potter is set to begin Hogwarts. But just when Hogwarts is prepared to have some actual education, a meddling group of friends interfere with things that ought not to be meddled in. WILL BECOME FULL SERIES!
1. Prologue

**Hello, my dear readers! I am super, duper excited to present . . . (drumroll please)**

 **My very own Lily Luna Potter series! Yay!**

 **Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the Harry Potter series or the characters in this (except for my OCs, which I'll introduce soon). These events are simply created by me and are by no means official.**

 **I've been planning this for a while now, so I'd really appreciate some reviews, because I really want to know your opinions on this series. Hopefully this story gains readers, because I'd love for there to be some sort of story for Lily!**

 **Side note: This story is set in 2019. By the end of this series, Lily and her friends shall be in 2026.**

 **This story will also have some spoilers for the series, so if you have not finished the books/movies, be warned!**

 **I have also made up the "Miraculous Mirrors", they don't exist in the Potterverse.**

 **Now let us begin!**

Prologue:

Every single second of Monday night in the iconic _Potter's Nest_ was miserable and painfully slow. Time ticked and taunted. The usual buzz was misty and cold. Tension hung in the air like a lingering spirit. Faces were solemn and intense. Whispers did not dare find their way across the dinner table. Although that may have been because of that ghastly omelette—Harry Potter may have been a cherished hero, but he did not know how to cook a decent omelette.

Twenty one years after the war. _Twenty one years after the war—_ and Harry Potter still could not cook an omelette.

Lily Luna Potter could see her brothers raising their eyebrows at her in what they perhaps thought was a surreptitious manner. They were stupid; they were incredibly stupid. James was always trying to make her laugh; Albus was merely being his inquiring self. But she could barely suppress her grin.

Monday night was the very much awaited night of Diagon Alley Eve, a grand festivity available exclusively only to the Weasley-Potter offspring and their honourary second-family, namely the Lovegoods and Longbottoms. Only the young students knew that it was Diagon Alley Eve. The parents, however, hadn't a single clue. And Merlin forbid they ever discover the secrets of Diagon Alley Eve. The Weasley-Potter clan hoped very much to keep their celebration a private affair. Partially because they wanted to avoid trouble, and partially because Uncle George was sure to add his own twist that would surely end in absolute disaster.

The legend of this fateful celebration was (not) a "sob" story. It began when the first of the family were of the Hogwarts age: Victoire, Teddy, Dominique, Alice and James were a handful of wild children that so happened to be put in a poor, unsuspecting family. (Ah, was it already making sense?) And whatever could wild children do the night prior to visiting Diagon Alley? Throw a celebratory meeting that night without the parents' consent, of course! Hogwarts was home. But a contributing benefactor as to what made it home may or may not have been the company of cousins and siblings. Diagon Alley was a beauty by itself; the bonus of attending Hogwarts. Diagon Alley Eve was simply an "added bonus on top of another bonus," as stated by an excitable James. (It was a wonder they did not leave the houses in states like that of bombsites, but _Colloportus_ and _Muffliato_ did wonders. Especially if you happened to be blessed with the enviable Granger brains.)

This glorious night was a very first Diagon Alley Eve for the youngest of the Potter children: sweet, young, naive Lily. Minus the "sweet". Lily Luna Potter had inherited the iconic wild child genes. Mischief flowed in her veins. You could not blame her with Weasley and Potter blood. You could, however, blame those Weasleys for allowing such a preposterous blood conversion. (And then prepare for a duel with the Weasley-Potter clan and without doubt the Longbottoms and Lovegoods.)

A basic summary of the present scenario: Lily Luna Potter was set to begin her education at Hogwarts this year (according to the latest gossip in _Witch Weekly)._

Hogwarts was raved about. Truly raved about. Maybe Lily would see for herself. Perhaps Hogwarts wasn't really the school it was made out to be. Perhaps it was. Perhaps Lily would join the ravers. Whatever would happen, it was real and it wasn't a photo or a description. It was tangible and it was going to happen. It wasn't going to be where all of her jealousy was directed; it would be a place and a home and an experience.

Life was beautiful indeed—unless you were a professor at Hogwarts. Then life would be beautiful after some therapy.

OOO

The four Potters (Harry was too busy preparing that disgusting omelette of his) and the odd Lupin sat at the dinner table, anxiously awaiting their dinner. Anxiously because of no angst, just the fear of what havoc the omelette wreck in their protesting stomachs.

Lily sat beside Albus (her pesky thirteen-year-old brother), who was plonked beside James (her awful soon-to-be-fifth-year brother) who was dropped next to Teddy (her twenty-one-year-old metamorphmagus older brother, and the only Lupin to be in the dining room and to be alive), the table resolving in a somewhat crude line of youngest-to-oldest.

One simply had to get a good look at Lily. She had been bestowed upon a fiery head of red locks that were silky, yet simply untameable. She'd pulled back her curls in a ponytail, but her hair-tie was almost snapping due to the frizz. She had inherited the legendary Weasley hair. Lily was the shortest of the clan ("a constant annoyance!" as she put it) and was also the fourth-freckliest (Fred had the most freckles). A spray of freckles were splayed across her nose. She was admittedly pale, though she wished her skin was a deep caramel like her cousin Roxanne's. Her eyes were the colour of melting caramel chocolate, and they crinkled when she smiled, which was quite often. And the most dire of warnings: her innocence was not to be believed, for she was a fizzing bundle of mischief and sass. One just did not cross her at all.

As Harry arrived at the table, arms laden with horrible platters of omelette, Teddy's normally turquoise hair flushed a fluorescent shade of Weasley red. It was vibrant enough to make him pass for Uncle Ron's younger self. Performing a quick mental headcount, Harry paused. The last time he'd checked, he had only one child with the signature Weasley hair.

James flashed that grin of his—the very one that made teachers weep with exhaustion. "C'mon, dad, it's _Teddy!"_

Teddy nodded earnestly. "Next you'll be telling us you don't remember Vincent."

"Or Melania," Albus chipped in.

"Or Lucy," James added, "or the capital of Belgium!"

Lily smiled—a bright grin that would've rivalled James's. "Or the recipe for egg omelettes!"

Teddy leaned over the silver platter gingerly, caution and remorse burning in his eyes, and sniffed, taking a mighty risk. He slumped back, grimacing. "He never did."

Harry pouted in mock disappointment. He gently ruffled Teddy's hair in the way he usually did. "Come on now, kids; my omelette isn't _that_ bad, surely?" He raised his eyebrows at Ginny. "Are they?"

"Unfortunately," Ginny cringed. "But your lasagna is godly." She leaned across the table and pecked smoothly him on the lips. There was a disgusted silence before a chorus of complaints rang around the table.

"Get a room, please," Albus whined.

Harry and Ginny smirked. "Now, now," Ginny warned, "if you want to hear our _whole_ love story ..."

"No!" Lily jumped in. They'd already heard a torturous three quarters of it. "No, we don't!"

Harry smiled like the cat with the cream. He had, as a matter of fact, spilled a bowl full of cream on him in the kitchen. Ginny sighed. "It was a beautiful story ..."

"Another time, Gin," Harry said wistfully. He snapped out of his fit of daze and passed the silver platter around.

The vegetable salad was attacked immediately (with frantic utensils, at that), and the egg omelette remained untouched.

The clinking of cutlery announced the beginning of supper. Tonight, dinner was an unusually quiet affair.

Lily wolfed down her very last bite of lettuce with ravenous glory. "Finished," she said with satisfaction. "Um ... thanks, dad. For the salad—not the omelette." Harry grinned an untrustworthy grin at this. With a small nod of the head, she rose from the table and slowly pushed her chair beneath the table, plate balanced in her hand.

Bounding, she made her way to the kitchen. _Potter's Nest_ was a homely estate, with cherry-coloured wood and a forever-burning fireplace. And usual visits from cousins. And the scrumptious packages of food delivered weekly from Grandma Molly. Gosh, no-one could forget the food.

The hallway walls were almost fully covered with framed pictures. Baby Lily, baby Albus, baby James, baby Teddy, even baby cousins and family friends adorned the walls. Family photos and photos of proud moments and houses and _anything_ that had to do with their family was hanging on the walls. The Potters/Weasleys loved their family more than anything. _Absolutely anything—_ more than Hogwarts and Quidditch and Firewhiskey and Butterbeer. It ran deep in their blood and dominated their minds. The love and longing for family was ingrained in their hearts. They couldn't resist an opportunity to show off their marvellous family—whether they were related by blood or bond. Family was family all the same.

Lily smiled at a photo of Albus and Rose at a Quidditch match set on the counter. They were beaming and waving at the camera as a battered Quaffle streaked across the sky. It was a pity their bond had broken. Her smirk was replaced with a frown. The photo seemed so much gloomier now. Albus and Rose looked almost tired suddenly, as if they wanted to drop their arms and storm off.

The pitiful reminder of Albus and Rose's former friendship was not the only thing present. A snowy owl was perched on the counter. Marigold, the family owl, had arrived.

"Hello, Marigold," Lily cooed. "You're looking elegant today."

Marigold spread her wings as if to agree and made an arrogant clicking sound. She nuzzled Lily flung herself off the counter, soaring through the house. With a clang, Marigold dropped a bundle of violent purple letters from the Ministry.

Lily frowned at the titanic mountain. The Ministry was always pestering her father at this time of night. She supposed she should be used to it. She slid her pristine plate in the metal sink, between the stacks of trays that James had wasted. The world just seemed much more happier now.

The weight of all the excitement was bearing down on her. Almost everything seemed at peace. It all seemed practically perfect.

Ecstasy flying, she frolicked over to the staircase. "Goodnight!" she called over the thumping of her footsteps. She twisted over the edge of the stairwell and dragged across the carpeted hallway.

She located her room; a decent-sized room painted sky-blue, adorned with miniature Quaffles and sketches—she loved to sketch and paint very much. It was truly a joy to create rolling hills with only the tip of a quill. Sky-blue had always been her favourite colour—it was for some reason pleasing to her eyesight.

Lily pulled her woolly pyjamas over her head and set off to the bathroom. A cracked bottle of Lucy's perfume was rolling on the tiles. An overpowering and—dare she say—slightly _pungent_ fragrance of roses and lavender wafted from it. Lily recalled the day's events that involved Lucy torturing James with the vile scent. She skipped over the tiles and began brushing her teeth. It was times like this that Lily Luna Potter had a good look at herself in the mirror. It was times like this that she realised she was eleven.

 _Oh, how clever! So suddenly now I realise I'm eleven!_ Lily scolded herself.

But what if she wasn't "eleven-ish" enough for Hogwarts? What if she was expected to be special or smart because of her heritage? What if Hogwarts _was_ just plain old Hogwarts? And what if it was dangerous as it was when her father was eleven? What if she wanted a plain experience? And what if she didn't?

 _Make up your mind,_ the rational part of her brain screamed, _How will you have it?_

 _I don't know ..._ she pondered, _It would be great for some excitement._

 _Oh,_ the rational part quipped, _You want half of Hogwarts to die in a battle? You want students and families to suffer?_

 _Stop it,_ she scolded herself again. _You're not helping me, brain. Stop being stupid. Stupid, stupid brain._

Lily pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind. It was Diagon Alley Eve. That was all that mattered.

And so with this beautiful thought motivating her, she exited the bathroom, extinguished the quivering light in her room and buried herself in blankets. It was ten-o'-clock. That meant two more hours until midnight—or otherwise, Diagon Alley Eve.

Unfortunately, time was being very stubborn. The celebration was haunting her, mocking her, freezing time in dreadful suspense. The seconds were a taunting maniac. If only Lily could find Kronos and modify time. And she only knew that the weird Titan guy could modify time because her cousin Rose, rapt with amazement, had blurted that fact out to her during lunchtime.

That only made her longing worse.

Time was slowing down and melting to mush. Lily's brain was ticking and her heart was beating wildly against her ribcage. She was going into overdrive.

She was no longer "young Lily Luna," as she was always referred to. She was somebody. She could be anybody. She wasn't a stay-at-home baby. Lily Luna Potter, for the first time in her life, could do something; she could do _anything_. Maybe she'd live up to her name. Maybe she'd crush the perfect Potter stereotype like a twig beneath her feet.

For once, she wasn't on the sidelines. Lily was up and in action, just as she was born to do; just as she was meant to do; just as she'd planned to do; just as she _would_ do.

It wouldn't be all sunshine and daisies, blah blah blah, Rose had lectured her. But it didn't have to be: it could be thunderstorms and bluebells—same difference.

She satisfied herself with the thought that midnight would come soon.

 _Soon._

 _(what even was "soon"?)_

"Soon."

 _(when even was "soon"?)_

Soon.

 _(it was all "soon"!)_

Soon ...

 _(of course it was soon)_

... _Soon ..._

 _(everything was soon)_

Soon—

Now! The clock on her wall read 12:00. It was 12:00, midnight, party time, horror time, twilight, _whatever_.

Midnight was now. As if in _right now._ Lily Luna Potter was going to attend the celebration of Diagon Alley Eve _right_ _now._ Her very first one.

Lily Luna Potter was about to jump off the sidelines and get ready for the game.

And so she crept out of the covers, careful not to trip over a foam Quaffle. She fizzling like fresh Firewhiskey, bubbling like warm Butterbeer. Lily reached behind her desk for her particular method of transportation.

Aunt Fleur was a "cool aunt." She was French, and very regal at that. _Gorgeous Fleur Weasley_ , the press would rave. _Amazing, beautiful, miraculous, amazing, amazing, perfect Fleur Weasley._ But the press hadn't seen her competitive streak—she lost all composure when challenged, and was no more a princess than the next person. And as far as basic knowledge went, even the most oblivious knew that "Perfect" Fleur Weasley could not resist spoiling her loved ones. So from France, Lily's Aunt Fleur had brought each of her children, nieces, nephews, and second-family two Miraculous Mirrors (one for home and one for, as she called it, "ze 'Ogwarts"). Miraculous Mirrors were mirrors that were as their namesake, simply and utterly miraculous. Along the top half of the silver mirror frames were intricate jewels carved as symbols, each for a child (a lily for Lily, much to her chagrin). The carvings and intricacies of the bottom half mirrored the top perfectly.

If a child wanted to talk to another child, they would simply tap the other's symbol, and the other child would be alerted by a flashing symbol. Both would chat through the mirror. If one child wanted to make another child's acquaintance, they would tap their own symbol and press the symbol of the other, and they would be transported. And another bonus: this cheeky method of travel was unknown by the parents (except for Fleur, of course).

Lily felt the cool, metallic frame of the mirror slide against her skin. She deposited it on her desk and lit a candle lying on her bedside.

In the twinkling firelight, the silver shimmered and the sky-blue lily appeared to be almost made of magic. She rapped her forefinger on the lily and then pressed it on a topaz trophy: her older cousin Victoire's symbol. It had already been arranged between the cousins to meet in Victoire's bedroom at the break of midnight.

She sucked in a shivery breath and watched as the soft, fading colours of the world swirled into a curious whirlpool of sky-blue, darkness, and shimmering twilight.

Diagon Alley Eve had arrived. And Lily hadn't gone knocking on its doorstep; the door had just opened by itself.

 **So ... did you like my Prologue? I hope so, because it did take me a while to write. I will continue this story, and hopefully write the rest of the series. Please tell me what you thought by reviewing! I'll see you in the next chapter!**

 **Yours in awesomeness,**

 **xxxgryffinclawxxx**


	2. Purple Thestrals and Phoenix Feathers

**Hello everyone! I'm baaaaack! I feel awful for waiting such a long time to update this, so I'm very sorry ... Also, Louis is blonde in this, so I'm sorry if you pictured him as a redhead.**

 **I've got the rest of the book planned out, but there's one more thing I'd like to say: thank you very much to whoever followed this story and put it in their favourites! I cannot believe that in one day people are already reading and enjoying my work! So thank you very much to whoever did so! I was overjoyed when I read so many lovely reviews today!**

 **DISCLAIMER: Yeah, sure, I own Harry Potter and Umbridge is still alive! Jokes, J.K Rowling owns the light of my life.**

 **Now let us begin the actual chapter!**

Chapter 1: Purple Thestrals and Phoenix Feathers

The fading colours of the world intensified. _Shell Cottage_ (Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill's recently renovated estate) was a burst of colours entwined with natural beauty and neutral colours. However, Lily was in the middle of a hallway she did not recognise. She was seeing double. Her arm was gripped by someone or some _thing_ she could not see. Twilight glimmered on the elegant photo frames on the wall. Lily only noticed that particular detail because she may or may not have spontaneously lost her balance and tottered into a wall.

Judging by the hand that was now holding her arm in a vice-like grip, her unexpected clumsiness and the fact she did not remember appearing here previously, Lily had been pulled into another hallway. Was this some prank?

A sudden wave of nausea almost overcame Lily. Her head spun like Molly Weasley doing ballet. (Let it be known that Molly Weasley II was very, _very_ serious about her beloved ballet.) She slid onto a door ("Stupid door," said a disgruntled Lily.) and nearly staggered into an ever-tormenting wall. She swerved around the doorway, careful not to knock down the family photos plastered on the wall. Lily threw out an arm to steady herself and leant against the frame.

She shook her head dazedly and spun around in circles. (Which was not helpful for her nausea. Lily, this is Nausea. Nausea, Lily. She's a very big fan of your work!) The hallway was empty; quite eerie compared to the shouts that rang through the house during daylight. Lily was puzzled at the sudden evanescence of civilisation. Hopefully those Muggle movies James watched were not real, and Lily was not the only survivor of some magical mass-killing.

She stepped forward and cleared her throat. "Um ... is anyone—"

She was cut off, for the world was suddenly engulfed in a terrific wave of blaze—a blinding light was pointed at her eyes. Lily squinted and shielded her face.

A familiar voice shouted, "WHAT'S THE PASSWORD?"

Lily shook her head, appalled. "I'm sorry?"

"What ... is ... the ... password?" the voice snarled.

"How am I supposed to know? You—whoever you are!—you never told me about a password!"

The light slowly dissolved to reveal the tousled, silvery head of Louis, Lily's cousin, who was also due to begin at Hogwarts that year. Lily felt her face flush—had he witnessed her display of clumsiness?

"Fine," Louis grumbled. "It's _killer Thestrals._ "

The cluttering of footsteps announced the arrival of Dominique, Louis's older sister, a soon-to-be-fourth-year. And the only redhead out of her siblings. ("A proud gene!" as she called it.)

She pouted. "Louis, we agreed on _purple Thestrals!_ "

"Why?" Louis whined. "You always get to choose the password!"

Dominique glared at him—a murderous look that Lily certainly did not envy. "But _killer Thestrals_ is _way_ too boyish!"

Thundering of urgent footfalls echoed around the room. Formidable older sister alert: Victoire had arrived.

"But you _always_ get to choose!" Louis complained.

"Well, _killer Thestrals_ is too boyish, _purple Thestrals_ is too girlish. I thought we agreed on _Phoenix feather_!" Victoire chipped in.

All went silent. Not the calm, peaceful quiet that was a savoured bliss: the lethal kind that was trembling with tension.

The silence was short-lived. In a matter of seconds, the siblings had broke out in a painful bout of arguing. ("SHUT UP!" "YOU SHUT UP!" "NO, I JUST TOLD _YOU_ TO SHUT UP!") The scornful demands grew so loud that Lily was doubtful even the best _Muffliato_ could disguise the shouts. She was honest-to-Merlin getting a migraine. And only Uncle Percy got migraines. (Migraines after work, the type that made him ask for tea and make him start to rub his temples and mutter " _What_ _a stressful day, what a day, indeed ..."_ The very ones that drove him insane. They drove Aunt Audrey insane, too)

"Okay, shut up," she grumbled, just loud enough for them to stop bickering, "it can be _Phoenixes and Thestrals._ Happy?"

Louis, Dominique, and Victoire paused. A moment of consideration.

"Fine," they agreed beseechingly.

Victoire, who regained her composure first, held the door to her bedroom open. "Here," she said.

"Thanks."

Her heart wildly beating a happy march, Lily stepped inside.

The bedroom honestly belonged in a Muggle magazine. It looked pristine and anyone would assume house-elves payed a visit. (If so, they were being ridiculous. Victoire had the demanding Hermione Granger for an aunt.) Her room was decorated white, with faint touches of blush-pink and dotted with marble figurines. She always said the marble "tied in with her _aesthetic"—_ whatever _that_ was. It was a rather large room, and the walls were plastered with large posters of muscular boys with names that sounded "hot"—at least that was Victoire had stated. Victoire's bed had been stripped and pushed to one wall, and the floor was smothered with a towering mound of pillows and bedsheets.

Sprawled across the floor were James and Albus, Roxanne and Fred (Roxanne was a fellow soon-to-be first-year, and Fred was in the same year as James—not a very good combo, unfortunately), and Lucy and Molly (her other older cousins, Lucy a fourth-year, Molly a sixth-year). Alice Longbottom was leaning against the wall, waiting for Dominique. Her younger brother Frank was chattering eagerly to Fred.

Lily plonked herself on a spare cushion. She was awaiting a certain someone—no, not that Sebastian Wood _The Daily Prophet_ was always "shipping" her with. (What even was this scandalous "shipping"?) It so happened to be that Hugo Weasley, her favourite Weasley cousin and one of her faithful best friends, was starting at Hogwarts this year. And it just so happened to be that Hugo Weasley was always late.

Heaving a great sigh, she deposited a folded slip of yellowed parchment in her lap—her one and only list of necessities required at Hogwarts. Lily began to fiddle with the corner of the slip when the door flung open. It crashed against the wall with a _bang_ so loud that Australia must have heard it. ("Oof," a voice grunted.)

A freckled, ginger boy about the age of eleven stumbled inside. He was rather tall for his age, which didn't come as a surprise regarding the height of his father. The blue of his startled eyes was so deep it was almost violet, and in the pale moonlight it was easy to believe they were. He was, as others put it, "iconically Weasley."

Hugo Weasley had finally decided to show up, flanked by his older sister Rose. He looked slightly flustered, but Rose looked merely agitated.

Rose's vibrant eyes were bearing into the back of Hugo's tousled mood of fire. She and Hugo had the exact same blue eyes, but hers were noticeably more intense. She was incredibly tall and looked like a giant compared to her brother. The curls and twists of her hair were a marvellous shade of red, and they almost burned in the sunlight, but her magnificent locks were almost always pulled back into a firm braid. She carried herself high and appeared almost haughty. Her glare was almost challenging.

The siblings were now in the spotlight.

Everybody in the room was staring, their eyes widened ingenuously. The innocent stares were an act. Lily knew all about the legendary misdeeds most of her cousins plotted. _Opting for a grand entrance?_ Lily thought.

Hugo's eyes flickered to where she was sitting and he flashed her a cautious grin. Lily tried to give him an exasperated, frustrated, almost disapproving frown. Rose had mastered that expression. But she couldn't help but reciprocate a bemused smirk.

Hugo grinned sheepishly and scrutinised his surroundings. "Hi," he said breathlessly. "What's up? Um ... yo?"

Rose shook her head and groaned. She smacked his arm gently. "Did you just say _yo?_ And _what's up?"_

Hugo looked puzzled. Rose simply rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair (Hugo did not appreciate that gesture. " _Hey!"_ he complained. "She does it _every time!"_ ) as she trampled over to Albus. "Lorcan and Lysander are trailing behind." She sank onto a cushion beside Lucy. Albus glared at her and Lily could've sworn Rose glared back. The room seemed much more quiet. Their animosity dimmed the room.

It all seemed quite unfair, really. They just had to argue. Just had to clash. As if they weren't the best of friends only a few years back. As if all those secrets and nights spent chattering through the mirrors meant nothing. Was it fashion to forget about all the inside jokes exchanged? To dim the mood because of their quarrelsome nonsense? Lily didn't like that. It was unfair. It seemed quite selfish to tear apart the family because of some silly dispute. Or perhaps it was the family itself being selfish.

Whatever. It wasn't like the adults knew.

It was fine. They'd all go back to being a picture perfect family soon. (But soon wasn't now. Soon didn't block the fierce remorse shared between Rose and Albus.)

Thankfully, the staring match was interrupted. A square box soared through the open doors. A _thud_ and an irritated mumble that sounded curiously like " _Lorcan!"_ could be heard. The mood became somewhat brighter.

Two boys pursued, and one did not need an alert to know who would protrude from behind the doors.

Lorcan and Lysander Scamander looked absolutely and undoubtedly identical, with curious light-green eyes and frosty pale complexions dotted with freckles. They shared same mop of corn-silk blonde hair and the same crooked smile. But both were not the same in any way, albeit their looks and surnames. Merlin forbid anyone make the mistake of believing that Lorcan and Lysander were anything but different.

Lorcan was loud-mouthed. He spoke his mind, and that was perhaps not always a plus. He cracked jokes worthy of Uncle George and his grin was that of a Cheshire cat's. He was due at Hogwarts this year ("I'll be the best thing that place has ever seen!" he'd presumptuously declared one night.) He'd have been mistaken to be an overgrown, cheeky elf that dwelled in the trees and danced in the mist of morning lights. He serenaded people and took pride in their irritated language. Lorcan was jubilant and exaggerated. He was the most mischievous of the mischief-makers. It was a good life for Lorcan Scamander indeed.

Lysander opted for silence. For privacy. He was a curious boy, and he kept his thoughts to himself. He displayed a logical manner. He wore thick black glasses, which earned him a lot of teasing from Lorcan. But Lysander was far more refined; he didn't catcall or insult. He tended to follow in Lorcan's shadow and run around after him, lest he make any (more) stupid mistakes. He was clumsy yet endearing. Lysander was an intelligent boy and he was kind. Just one look at him and you could tell he was modest. Lysander possessed the charming qualities of a Healer, the ones that made it on the front page of _The Daily Prophet._ (Partly because of their looks.) Lysander was bottled and reserved; when he got upset he would burst. (Lily knew from personal experience.)

To know the Scamander twins, one had to be able to differentiate. (And to not mix up their names – that made them terribly upset.)

Lorcan broke out into a malicious grin. "My existence has now been forced upon you!"

"He means that he's here," Lysander groaned. "Sorry about Lorcan. He thinks he's just _superior."_ He shot his brother a dithering look. Lorcan shrugged like _Well, we're in public so you can't kill me in front of them,_ and dropped himself next to Roxanne. The room was swallowed by silence one again. Somebody cleared their throat. Another sneezed. One began to whistle.

Fruitless attempts at conversation rang around the room. Lily was even sure she heard Rose bring up the 2015 Quidditch World Cup scores. That wasn't a good thing; England had been smashed. It was kind of embarrassing. The topics ranged from things as bland as brands of parchment to things as ludicrous as how many bricks it would take to fill the Great Hall.

"I heard about Austin Finch-Fletchley's girlfriend Lindsay ..." Lucy whispered in a hushed tone.

"Wasn't his girlfriend Olivia?" Alice inquired.

"But Olivia's an idiot."

More conversations could be heard. Most were more interesting than listening to teenage girls blabber on about Austin Finch-Fletchley.

"Ah," somebody marvelled, "you reckon about seventeen thousand bricks?"

"Perhaps eighteen?"

Lily was recoiling internally as awkward chatter resounded around the room.

This was boring. She turned to Hugo. "So ... Hogwarts soon, huh?"

He swivelled around to face her. " _Yeah."_ He dropped himself on a cushion beside her. Then he continued, "Feels like it's going to take forever until September. But people say the time goes quickly? It's ... not? Am I possessed or something?" He said all of this slowly and finished with a look of confusion, wonder and almost disdain on his face, as if he had sampled some sort of new omelette recipe Harry had cooked up. Except the omelette left an aftertaste, and it was kind of _pleasant._ Lily entertained that thought. Not of Hugo eating the omelette—the one of the aftertaste actually being _pleasant._ She smiled to herself.

A bang echoed around the room. Lily was shook out of her amusing daydream. Everybody flinched, except for James and Fred, who were standing atop a towering stack of blankets, as if they'd claimed it as their tower. Fred dropped what looked like a burned-out _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_ miniature firecracker. Looks of horror became clear on everybody's faces. The resident tricksters had stepped up their game.

One thing became clear, and it was an immediate source of impending dread for everybody present. They were _not_ going to send an owl to the Ministry of Magic requesting a pack of Chimeras again. But that was not on their minds at all. "Now, then ..." they chorused, eyes sparkling with malice. "Does anybody here happen to have a broomstick?"


	3. The Bet, The Brothers and The Broomstick

Chapter 3: The Bet, The Brothers and The Broomstick

OOO

When Dominique stood, dauntless but determined, and declared that _Yes, she had a broomstick,_ Lily should've leapt to her feet and objected. Rudely, if she had to. She should've locked the doors and refused to let her cousins pass. She should've stopped them. A few annoyed glares sent her way would have been nothing compared to the mess that she'd be involved in. If only Lily knew. If only any of them knew.

But, alas, Lily did not stop anybody. Not Dominique as she cast a suspicious glance at James and Fred, not James and Fred as they shared smug grins when she went to go fetch the broomstick, and not when she returned, a slick Nimbus Three-Thousand and Five in hand.

That was one awesome broomstick. Lily felt a pang of jealousy at the fact that Dominique got to ride that beauty at her Quidditch matches. She felt another pang at the fact that she was on the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team. Lily would give absolutely anything to be on the Quidditch Team. First-years weren't even allowed on the team! Unfair, if you asked her!

Lily watched, almost in awe, as Dominique passed the polished handle into the greedy hands of James and Fred. They grinned at her reproachful glance. The Nimbus looked so grand in the twilight. So beautiful. Lily watched the Dynamic Duo (the family had dubbed them that) observe the broomstick curiously and cautiously. What were they going to do with a broomstick? It was quarter past twelve and nothing interesting could ever be happening!

But yet they examined as if it were the most precious thing they'd ever seen and swished it through the air, muttering indistinct words to each other. Everybody watched unabashedly as they raised it into the air like a trophy. The price made it identical to one.

"Nice ride," James commented. Dominique nodded earnestly.

Fred cleared his throat. He threw an arm in the air and bowed. "Children of the Potterhood, Weasleyhood, Longbottomhood and Lovegoodhood ... goodness, that's a tongue twister," he began. "I welcome you to Diagon Alley Eve."

James, who stood behind him, gestured eagerly with his hands and mimed a clapping motion. It appeared that the others were not stupid and caught on. Awkward, unenthusiastic, half-hearted applause could be heard.

"Yes, thank you ... thank you ... thank you very much," Fred continued. "Tonight, at this _exclusive_ Diagon Alley Eve, hosted by yours truly –"

"It's hosted by _us,_ thank you very much," Dominique interjected.

Fred sighed. "Yes, of course, _dar-ling–"_ Dominique cringed at the name.

"This evening, James and I have a very nice event – or should I say "game"? – planned. It's simple." He grinned. "James will explain, won't you?"

 _Dear Merlin,_ Lily thought, _I can't stand this. How on Earth can I face the fact that I'm related to these monsters?_

James strode forward. Lily's heart sunk. "Indeed I will." He winked in Fred's direction. That did not reassure Lily.

"Me and Fred will generously reward 10 Galleons" – a series of gasps rang out as he raised a small sack that jingled playfully – "to whoever will successfully spy on a ... family ... of our choice. Understood?"

Nobody moved or dared to speak.

"Understood?" James repeated.

"Yes," everybody chorused.

Suddenly Rose scrambled to her feet. Lily felt thankful that she'd regained her senses. Rose was always responsible. Sometimes she could be too uptight.

"No!" she spluttered, and her face became as vivid as her hair. "This is not happening!"

James and Fred looked disappointed, but not surprised. They sighed heavily. This was always to be expected. Responsible Rose was ready for action.

James groaned. "C'mon, Rosie ..."

"Oh, do _not_ call me Rosie!" Rose growled.

"It'll be fine!"

"It will not! And it's not like I'd _care_ if you did get hurt, anyway!"

Somebody started to laugh, but disguised it as a cough. James rolled his eyes.

"What are you so afraid of?" he coaxed.

"I'm not afraid of anything here!" Rose said indignantly. "But it's illegal to spy on a person!"

"Is it?" James said.

"Yes!"

"Well, is there any proof we did it?"

"The family will see you!" Rose hissed.

"Actually," Fred interrupted, "they won't."

He raised a long silvery piece of fabric that swished in the air. Lily caught her breath. _Oh gosh,_ she thought, _It's dad's invisibility cloak!_

Rose started to splutter again.

Lily's heart was thumping against her ribcage so loudly that she was sure the others could hear it. Rose couldn't help but stare at it, mouth agape. Fred and James were grinning, indulging in their own brilliance. Everybody else was staring at it, eyes widened comically.

An idea struck Lily in the head like lightning.

Maybe she could volunteer. Maybe she could do it. She could prove to everyone that she brave. That she was clever. Cunning, even. Witty. Courageous. Fierce. Bold. Perhaps she wouldn't be just a famous name. Maybe she wouldn't merely be Lily Luna Potter. She could prove herself now, right now.

After a moment but what seemed like an hour's contemplation, Lily found herself on her feet. She found herself surrounded by gawking faces. Being stared at by disbelieving cousins. Lily met her brother's proud gaze. He was beaming. Glowing, even.

This seemed so great. So insane. So dangerous. So fun. So infinite. So beyond. So ... so Lily. This was exactly what she needed. She felt trapped in time. Lily was frozen in anticipation of her words. Of her actions and consequences.

This was dangerous, yes. But whatever! She could care less! It was now twenty past twelve and she was caught up in her insanity. It was a perfect twelve AM thought.

"Anything to say, Lils?" James said excitedly.

Lily's heart leapt into her throat. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She could hear Rose's protesting splutters. Between her trembling tongue and squeaking voice, a quiet but effective "I'll do it," escaped. And it made all the difference. It send her surroundings into frenzy.

OOO

Hugo was on his feet, too. He was standing and he was looking at Lily with a mixture of admiration and respect. He was glowing like James. His hair looked like dying embers in the moonlight.

All was silent. Not a single person took their eyes off the boy with the flames for hair.

"If Lily's going ... I'm going too," he declared. The silence broke.

Rose was shrieking. "NO! LILY ISN'T UNDER MY CONTROL, SO I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT HER, BUT _YOU_ ARE NOT GOING!"

"Excuse me? So, _I'm_ under your control?" Hugo said, his voice sounding sarcastic but distinctly hurt.

Rose glared at him. Hugo did not recoil. "You're not ... but I won't let you leave! You are not dying on my watch!"

"I won't die, Rose!" Hugo replied. "I'm sick of this! If Lily is going, I'm going!"

Lily felt touched by Hugo's loyalty. She'd known they were close, but she hadn't realised how close they really were.

"No, Hugo Weasley, you are not!"

"This isn't your decision!"

"YOU'RE NOT GOING!"

"YES, I AM!"

"HUGO WEASLEY, IF YOU GO I WILL TELL MUM THAT YOU'VE BEEN SNEAKING OUT OF STUDY SESSIONS!"

The room fell silent again.

Fred stepped up. "It should be Lily's decision."

"What?" Rose practically screeched.

"If Lily is going, she should approve." He sounded calm but he must've sensed the danger behind arguing with Rose.

Rose struggled for several moments. "Fine," she said ruefully.

Everybody's head swivelled to look at Lily. This was her decision. This was her choice.

Hugo should go, yes. Hugo was her best friend. Lily loved Hugo like a brother. Lily and Hugo. Hugo and Lily. LilyandHugo. HugoandLily. It made sense. They were just a pair. They were simply inseparable. That was all they were.

But maybe Hugo shouldn't go. Lily hated herself for even thinking such a thing. But maybe he shouldn't. This was her opportunity. Not Hugo's. They couldn't always be together. They couldn't always be twins.

But they were LilyandHugo. They were HugoandLily.

So she beamed at him. So she opened her mouth and with every bit of sincerity she had, she said, "Yes."

And not even Rose could object.

 _LilyandHugo. HugoandLily. LilyandHugo. HugoandLily. LilyandHugo. HugoandLily. LilyandHugo._

"We're Lily and Hugo, aren't we?" she said, smirking.

"The Dream Team," James added.

Lily turned towards Hugo. They both looked equally fiery. She beamed.

Hugo beamed back at her.

OOO

Lily was beginning to regret this. Oh, she was beginning to regret this, indeed.

She should've stopped. She should've screamed, "HAHA, I WAS JOKING!" She should've snapped the broomstick in two. She should've said, "No, Hugo, you can't come!"

But at least she had the other half of the Dream Team with her. That was comforting, at least.

And now, at fifteen past midnight, Lily found herself with Hugo Weasley behind her on a broomstick, a Muggle device called a camera, and a backpack full of WWW merchandise.

But most of all, she found herself travelling to Malfoy Manor.

OOO

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE BELOW:**

 **I apologise as this was a short filler chapter. Nothing special. I was inspired by the Albus Potter series by NoahPhantom. You should definitely read it! It is WAY BETTER than this lousy fanfiction! It starts with Albus Potter and the Global Revelation! Check it out, you'll thank me later.**

 **Also, I think I should get a beta reader. Do beta readers still exist on this app/website? My writing is far from perfect (I think it's quite bad) but I write to get better. What do you think? I haven't been given opinions.**

 **Anyway, thank you for reading this chapter. I'll see you in Chapter 3: Mischief Manor.**


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